


Madness of Two: An Autobiography.

by QueenStilinski



Category: DC - Fandom, Suicide Squad - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Comedy, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenStilinski/pseuds/QueenStilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley Quinn. Well known psychotic right hand gal to the infamous Joker, known for his many crimes on Gotham City, most popular ( AND REOCCURRING ) patient in Gotham's very own, Arkham Asylum. Harley Quin. Previously, Harleen Quinzel, a doctor at the Asylum, is just as, if not more, crazy than the Joker, previous patient. Here is her story, a look in on her mind and the events that only they have lived long enough to tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harleen Quinzel.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puddin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puddin/gifts).



_**Would you die for me?** _

_**Yes.** _

_**That's too easy.. Would you live for me?** _

_**... Yes.** _

 

 

I always knew that violence was a thing that burned deep inside my DNA. Something was always..  _Off_ inside me. I never knew what it was, I never really tried to figure out what it was, either. My father was a convicted criminal and you know what they say about the apple, right? Doesn't fall far from the tree, or something like that. I always had a fascination when it came to violence. I loved to watch documentaries about serial killers and read police reports and listen to the goriest of details about deaths to those of whom were.. Even close to me.. But I had just brushed it off as something that came from my love for the human brain and wanting to know how it worked, why the people who were often behind these heinous acts were the way that they were, most didn't care for the consequences, most didn't have the capability to care, some did. Some said that they were forced to do it by god, others said they were forced by the devil, but the interesting part was that I was positive neither God nor Devil existed outside the perception of who we are, as, we all see something bad about ourselves and something good about ourselves, which we, as people, carve into our descriptions as God and Devil. When these people who were claiming to be acting on one of their command, they were really just acting on that side of their brain's command, but they don't  _believe_ that, you know?  That's the interesting part. The hallucinations and emotions and raw  _belief_ that these people had that pushed them to commit these crimes, it was always just so.. So interesting to me. Which is why I was so infatuated with...  _Him._ The infamous, JOKER. 

 

There was just.. Something that was so interesting about him. The way they showed him on the TV, in the newspapers, portraying him as this crazy man who had no problem with slaughtering anyone and everyone. Which, I'm sure he is, sure he was, but it wasn't just how the media portrayed him, it was how  ** _he_** portrayed himself. There were times during news reports where they'd been covering a murder or a disaster and the clown would just.. SHOW UP! Out of no where! And then on came that host like persona and the charisma practically bled through the TV.. How could someone who was so charismatic be such an anti-people person? Or rather, it wasn't that he seemed to be anti-people, more so that people didn't like him. He seemed to like any and everyone unless you did something he didn't like. It was very easy, to do something he didn't like.

 

So this is why I was beyond excited when I got hired at Arkham. Of course, nervousness was still something that was settled inside my stomach, naturally though. Arkham was home of Gotham's most twisted minds. Not one person in there was sane, some said the doctors themselves were also well.. Not all there. I couldn't blame them, working among the insane, the twisted and cruel, well. It did  ** _things_** to a persons psyche. But of course, I was itching to take on the challenge. My parents begged me to decline the offer, ' _It's not safe, Harleen._ ' ' _You'll get hurt, Harleen._ ' Was the usual excuses that they offered up to me on silver platters during each phone call and every visit since I've accepted to work there. I care deeply for my parents, honestly I do, and I really do appreciated their worry and concern but.. If I hadn't taken that job.. If I never worked at Arkham... I would never have the slightest chance of meeting Joker. I needed to meet that man.

 

My first day of work was like no other. I got a tour about the place, even got a sneak peek at the Jokers cell! There was something thrilling about standing right next to the room that the criminal, the murderer, was confined in. I felt a rush in my veins and I had never felt that before. Goosebumps prickled my skin and I so badly wanted to go in there. I so badly wanted to see him, witness his persona in person and live to tell the tale, hear that chilling yet.. Captivating laugh that so many quaked at the sound of. He, was a truly terrifying man, and every part of me begged to be up close and personal with him.

 

So obviously I didn't complain when I was put under the care of his therapist. Doctor Emily Smith. Emily was a kind women, but she seemed tortured.  She seemed so.. Tortured. Like she'd been going through so much that she just couldn't find it in her to actually properly communicate with people. She let me sit in, in on some of her low risk patients, ones with little things who weren't known for lots of violence against staff. Unlike Joker. I just couldn't wait until I was to the point where I could see him. Luckily for me, Doctor Smith was feeling surprisingly generous, or maybe it was risky, and actually offered to let me sit in on one of his sessions. She said it shouldn't be too bad, this was a shorter session as she had to take an early leave. Something about a sister giving birth or a wedding or something that I wasn't really keen on caring about with the question she'd just popped. The session would only be half an hour.

 

I was so excited. The rest of the day ticked down to the finale, the entire day I could imagine entering the room to that deathly laugh and to see him fighting a guard or something, hear him torturing Emily was one thing that constantly crossed my mind. Sometimes, I had to pause what I was doing to remind myself- that was something that I didn't wish to see. That was something that I hoped I'd never get to see.

Odds are I was going to see it anyway.

 

Finally the time came, I scurried into the room, a step behind my mentor and took a seat. Anxiously I sat at the metal table, tapping my pen against the notepad I held in my hands until the doors opened, and in they brought the clown prince himself.. The Joker.. Infamous.. Deadly.. Criminal...

 

But he didn't look criminal to me at all. He just looked like he was lacking in the sleep department. Which, from what Emily had told me about him before, wouldn't be.. Uncommon. They led in this small man, his hair was messy and growing out brown. I always knew that was hair dye, no way was it his real hair. It was all over the place, something you didn't see when he was in the media. His eyes looked.. Dark.. Annoyed, it was obvious that he didn't want to be there, obvious in the way he dragged his feet and glared at the chair. He was wrapped up in a straight jacket, no doubt that was uncomfortable. I could only imagine how much the feeling of suffocation was prominent in one of those, unable to move.. You probably felt like you couldn't breathe. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I suppose that's when it finally truly hit me, I was sitting across from a man who had murdered and tortured countless people and had.. Bit some guards throat out once. This did not look like a man capable of biting a throat out, though. Perhaps it was the new medication they were trying him on. Adderal, I believe. It seemed they switched medications every month or so, because something would happen and he'd eventually act out, so they'd switch. I could understand that, he probably was sick of it though, and likely thought he was here to get another med prescription. 

I wouldn't blame him.

 

As he sat, I found myself with the time to glance over his features. Joker was nothing like the Joker that I had witnessed on TV.. Nothing at all like the Joker I witnessed in the media. This once was raw and ragged, quiet. His jaw was so sharp, you could likely cut yourself on it, he'd probably pride himself in that if he had been in a better state. Assuming of course from his file. He had gorgeous eyes too, not that I got much of a look at them, considering he mostly focused on the table, his head lolling and swaying side to side while he brushed off and ignored everything and everyone.

 

This wasn't quite what I was expecting. It seemed, that it was not what Smith expected either, as she seemed more dismayed the more he didn't acknowledge the new presence, the lack of jokes which one would assume he'd be full of, and the lack of general communication. She'd question him about the medication, next.

 

"Tell me, how have you been finding your new medications? Any side effects? Negative ones, I mean."

 

This was the first time Joker spoke in twenty minutes. His voice was gruff, harsh and whispered. So quiet that I had to stop writing completely to even listen to what he had to say. It was.. Well he sounded like someone who hadn't drank anything in weeks.

 

"Can't sleep," He responded simply.

 

And that was the last of what Joker had to say.  We sat there then, in silence for another then minutes. Without saying anything, Smith had exited the room. And that left us there alone, with the exception of the orderlies. I was suppose to be leaving as well, and I had been, right by the door when I heard a crash from behind. Turning my head, I pushed up my glasses slightly and surveyed the situation. Joker's chair seemed to have toppled over in his attempt to push it out and get up without the use of his hands. Poor fella laid there on the floor. He actually just laid there. Didn't bother trying to get up while the stupid orderlies laughed around him. How disgusting, I thought, that they'd let him just suffer like that. So, telling Smith I'd be only a second, I scurried quickly over to his side, and carefully helped him back up onto his feet. 

 

That was the first time I saw it. I saw that.. The smile. The smille.... I saw it. The guy tilted his pretty head back in the process as I helped him stand, his electric eyes, suddenly more alive, suddenly more.. Interested. They stared directly into my eyes and his lips began to curl back, showing off that amazing smile of his. It was small at first before it engulfed what seemed to be his entire face. I stood there, hands on what, I assumed to be his biceps judging by their placement in the uh.. Straight jacket. I was so close to the clown prince.. I was so.. close.. 

 

I was not afraid.

 

"Whhhhhhhhhhhy thaaankkk ya... Doccctoooorrrr...." He dragged out each word, long and low as his head did that little swaying motion again. I opened my mouth, but I couldn't find it in me to actually respond to his words, so I simply smiled. That seemed to be good enough for him as he turned, and carefully shuffled out of the room with the two guards at his side.

 

The next week, Smith told me that I was to sit in on every session from then on, at the time, I didn't know why.. The night before therapy was haunted with his laughter. Not the laughter that I had witnessed first person, but the laughter from the news reports, the videos. That infectious, creepy, laughter bounced across my brain and I wasn't even dreaming of him. In fact, I was dreaming about going to the beach, a nice sunny day, perfect temperature, and the sand beneath my feet.. But every time I would close my eyes to try to relax and tan.. That laughter... And then when I opened my eyes...

 

All I saw was his face.


	2. Oblivious

Around the time that the next weeks therapy session started, I was more relaxed. Why? Because Joker wasn't at all the person he appeared to be on TV and in News Papers.. Videos.. He wasn't the criminal that people made him out to be. Who he made himself out to be, oh no. He was so.. Quiet. Very quiet and he seemed to be a rather.. Kind guy, actually. Hell, he hadn't so much as blinked until I helped him off the floor. Maybe he just needed someone to be nice to him, for someone to go that extra mile to show him a little kindness, a little heart and then, he'd be okay. I was under that impression, at the very least, that, that was the whole issue going on. The poor fella just needed a friend... I could use a friend, so I didn't see any harm in showing him these acts of kindness that would allow him to feel, to be more than a vegetable sat around doing absolutely nothing, but being locked inside of his own mind and that horrible, uncomfortable looking straight jacket. Poor, poor Joker.. This was around the time that I was growing well, curious. Was the lack of a companion what had made Joker this way? Had he been outcasted in his last- not his last. In his  _normal_ life. Had he been set aside and treated like a nobody? Was neglectence and being alone had been what drove him to act out and go crazy? Well, it wouldn't be uncommon. Those who grow up with limited positive contact often turned out as serial killers or rapist or other forms of criminals and, were usually people who had lots of illnesses, and some were just plain crazy. Just like Joker..

 

I'd been lost in my own mind, in fact, for the entirety of the time leading up to this very moment. I didn't have many important things to do, anyway, just bring around medicine and that didn't require a lot of focus, just enough to match meds to names. Easy peasy. But I'd been so focused on him, who he really was and what had to have made him the way that he was now. Ever since our last encounter all I could remember was that smile. The way that his lips curled back in that..  _That_ manner. Was there a way to describe how it happened? No, she didn't think so. It was so slow, and so intense that moment with him. And the smile made it all the more better, or maybe worse? Who knew, most said Joker was typically smiling but he wasn't smiling until that moment so what did that imply? Was that a good sign, or a bad sign? I wasn't entirely sure at the time, but, it was gorgeous none the less. That man was.. He was beautiful when he smiled. Though of course, Smith would have to disagree with me. She  _did_ however, agree that he was attractive. For a psycho maniac killer clown. Understandable, of course.

 

Entering the room, it was Emily first and then me, I trailed over and sat myself down on the designated chair, tapping my pen to the pad once more. A nervous tick, I noted. I was always hyper aware of myself and my doings and my emotions, or at least, I thought I was. Nobody knew me like I do, I liked to pride myself on that.  I still hadn't asked Emily why she requested that I sit in on all the meetings from now on, I didn't much care for her reasoning, the important part was that I could! Though I did find it strange. Emily was usually a very rule-abiding lady. She was an elderly woman, with whitening blonde hair, little fibers of grey and white hidden inside of her blonde bun, and the cutest pair of pink glasses sat on the tip of her nose at all times. Unlike me, she actually needed hers. She said it came with old age, and reminded me I should always eat my carrots. Sometimes, Emily reminded me of my mother. I'd actually been looking at her and assessing her.. Grandma like appearance. "I'm getting to old for this job," She had mentioned to me once. She'd been Jokers TENTH psychiatrist, and she had been the longest lasting one, I recall during one open lunch spent together, Emily had mentioned to me that she had nightmares about him. She'd watched him bite a guards throat out. Literally, ripped the guys throat clean out. With his teeth. Truthfully, I was glad I hadn't been there to see the sight.  _No Harleen. You are not._

 

Joker entered the room with flare this time, straight jacket gone and throwing the door open, entering with arms spread out and a smile on his lips like some kind of performer. I suppose, in a sense, he was a performer. He definitely saw himself in that light. He always needed to be in spotlight, it seemed. It shocked me though how he entered, glorious and amazing and tall and definitely filled out more. Emily  _had_ mentioned she'd taken him off the pills again because he was agitated by the lack of sleep and had lashed out against a guard after our session, but it seemed he had been well behaved since considering, well, he was jacketless and strolling across the room with so much purpose in his step. Stanley, his usual orderly, rolled his eyes and strolled into the room behind him with good ol'Frankie trailing in. Stanley was the bold one, Frankie was quiet. Frankie was scared of Joker, I knew already that he definitely reveled in that information. Joker seemed, from his file, to love installing fear into peoples hearts. 

 

"Gooooooood afternooooooooooon lah-ADIES!" He cheered as he pulled out his chair and sat in it, dragging it once more when sat, back to the table. The sound of metal on the floor wasn't a pleasant one, and I found myself flinching. The notion had brought his attention to me, his eyes slowly trailing over. That smile was back. The one he had gifted to me in our last encounter. It was delicate almost, something to be treasured. Surely a woman could easily fall in love with.. That smile. I would be surprised if someone hadn't. "Loookie what we have heeeereee...." His voice was much better today, I noted. Dark and deep yet it had a bit of a whine behind of it. He seemed to be more than lively now, sure he was bouncing off the walls! Metaphorically of course, the orderlies wouldn't stand for him literally bouncing off the walls.. Though it did seem like a very Joker centric thing to do. 

 

Like our last encounter, I didn't know what to say to him. A little smile came to my lips in greeting, and I nodded my head slightly, pushing a strand of the blonde hair out of my face with the hand holding the pen. I still didn't know what to call him aloud, so I just kept quiet with formalities. However, he didn't seem to want to keep it that way, and extended a large, white hand across the table, his head tilting to the side slightly, lack of eyebrows raising slowly in anticipation to what I assumed was me to take his hand and shake it. I leaned over a little, shaking his hand carefully, my eyes sliding across to rest on Emily questioningly. She simply smiled as she watched the interaction. Before I had really noticed it, Jokers grip was tightening and he was speaking slowly.

 

"Haaaarleeeeeen... So that's the darling little bit of heaven's name huh? Harleen..." Did he just refer to me as a bit of heaven? What kind of criminal does that? "Haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrllllll.....eeee.....nnn...." He dragged out my name, testing it on his tongue and rolling it around his mouth like he'd been tasting a new wine, trying to discover if he liked the taste or not. "I bet your friends call you, uh.. HARLEY, huh, Harleeeeeeen?" His lips were still pulled back in that gorgeous grin of his, head starting to sway slightly side to side again. I couldn't help but let myself laugh a little, shaking my head slightly and releasing his hand, sitting back carefully in tune with him. "I don't have many friends..." I admitted. Wait, why was I admitting something like that to a criminal? That was something he could easily use to manipulate me, and with a man like Joker manipulation was always an element present in the equation after all.

 

"Well..  **HARLEY ...** You've got a uh... Uh FRIEND now," Joker had cooed slowly, his body still bent across the table ever so slightly. He was sat hunched over it, elbows on either side of him, propping up against the metal table with his hands clasped in front of his person. Even with his informal posture, he still had this aura about him that demanded respect and attention, the aura of a true king. He may have called himself the Clown Prince of Crime, but god knows he was the Clown King of Gotham. No.. Prince just did not fit the way that he came across. And for a moment, with his charismatic behavior, I found myself blushing despite my better thoughts. Shaking it off though quickly with a little giggle and pushing my glasses up onto my face, I simply replied with, "Thank you uhm..."

 

That's when he cleared things up and began to laugh. Oh my god, there it was. The laugh. The  ** _laugh._** It was terrifying, utterly bone chilling. Blood freezing. It was loud and soft all at once and it was violent. The sound screamed for you to run, to get out of this situation with this person and run, but yet.. It was.. Soothing. It was a beautiful sound and I found myself smiling at it, while I noticed that Emily began to tense up, as if waiting for him to leap across the table and start strangling her, and Stanley reached for the taser on his hip. Was he truly that bad? Truly so bad that his laughter made his psychiatrist cringe? Well, no, that was a stupid question. Perhaps he had disclosed to Emily that he only laughed when he was about to do something violent, after all she was his therapist. But the guards? Well maybe they noticed the laughter was usually followed with violence. I had to remind myself, that I was new here, I was new to the Joker and I did not know him in the way that these people did. I didn't see him bite out a guards throat. Poor Stanley was probably standing right next to.. Robert, when it had happened. Poor Stanley, probably knew how violent Joker could be. Poor.. Poor Stanley was probably the focus of his violence, quite a bit. 

 

"J, call me J, Harley-girl." He cooed finally after the noise slowly dulled to his voice. At that, Emily seemed to relax and so did Stanley. Frankie stopped looking like he was about to piss himself. Why did that guy work here, work with .... J if he was so scared of him, huh? Wasn't the point of this job, being appointed to JOKER, was to be brave? Strong? Courageous? Frankie seemed like a pussycat!

 

"Thank you, Mister J." I nodded and Emily cleared her throat to cue herself into the conversation. My eyes went to her, but I could still feel Jokers.. Or J's, on me. I could feel them burning into the side of my face, that intense, electric stare that he had, and I could still feel the aura of his smile, that gorgeous.. Beautiful.. Smile.. He barely even acknowledged that Emily was there, that she was speaking. In fact, he didn't. He swayed his head a little, I could see that out of the corner of my eye but, he was constantly swaying his head. Maybe it helped him focus? Who knows. I would, eventually.

 

"Well, now that you two have become well acquainted, can we get on with the session? We're already twenty minutes in and we haven't even properly started, although I can see that you're feeling much better now, J. How are you feeling? Sleeping better?" Emily inquired and tilted her own head in the same direction that J currently had his tilted.

 

The man completely ignored her. Disregarded her existence like she wasn't even in the room. Maybe he tuned her out or maybe he just chose to purposely ignore her and not answer. I turned my eyes back to him and found his eyes still locked on me. This time though, his lips were a bit slacker, not much of a smile but his mouth was open and his eyes looked kinda hazy as he just stared at me in that fixated way. I found myself growing squirmy underneath his gaze, it was so intense and uncomfortable it left me with a feeling of.. Violation. Like my privacy had been breached. He knew too much about me and yet he knew nothing more than that I don't have friends, a truth, and my name, which he disregarded and placed a new name on me. The fact that he was ignoring her, seemed to make Emily annoyed and she sighed, pushing her glasses up again. "J, did you hear me?" Still no response. Still just staring. At this point, we were just staring into each others eyes. I could see so deep into his soul like this, I found myself thinking. I could see that there was still a sane man deep, deep, deepdeepdeeep down in him. Somewhere kept under lock and key like he didn't even want to be sane, though, every insane person wants to be helped, they just don't realize it until after they've already been helped, for the most part. "Mistah J?" I questioned him quietly, eyebrows furrowing slightly to see if I could get a response out of him at all. His face lit up instantly at the sound of my voice, his eyes crinkling with his gigantic grin. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssss Harley?" He purred back.

 

Okay, so he answered to me. Emily had raised an eyebrow and simply reached her hand out to take my notepad, and the pen, gesturing for me to go ahead and start the proper session with him. It seemed, after all, that he only seemed interested in interacting with me. "Shall we start the session now?" I asked him, to which he seemed to hum and toss his head around like he was physically tossing the thought around his mind before he let out a boisterous laugh and tossed himself back into the chair, arms flying out only to land happily behind his head. "Gooooooo right aahhhhead, Harls!" Oh. Okay, more nicknames. Pleasant, I thought. I supposed that would be what this was made up of, nicknames and ignoring Emily. I could already tell she wasn't at all interested in the fact he wouldn't talk to her, but it seemed to intrigue her how interesting he became with me, and oh so quickly. 

 

"Alright, how are you feeling, J? Have you been able to sleep more?" I asked the same question that Emily did and he let out a low groan. "Oh, oh ohohohoohh Harls, I'm AHHHLWAYS good with you around! Little beam of SUNSHINE ain'T SHE STANLEY?" He finally addressed someone other than me, and Stanley snickered under his breath. "Well theres a lot of things I could say about her," He shot back simply under his breath.

 

The comment seemed to anger Joker and the smile dropped instantly. "I'll have you KNOW, Doc.. That I uh.. I hAVE been sleepin a HELL of a lot better yknow but.. I've been havin these.. Dreams.." He started, leaning closer to the table the more he spoke. "Daaahhhreeaamms... about.. about killing olllllll STAAANLEY here..." He spoke so slowly, so darkly. I couldn't bring myself to actually look at Stanley to assess his face, my eyes were stuck on Jokers, and his seemed to be stuck on mine. "He doesn't uh.. RESPECT people, you know? Makes me pretty... MAD.. You wanna know what I do when I get mad, Harls?" His words were formed into the stature of a question and I found myself itching to answer it, but I couldn't bring myself to let any words leave my open mouth, Emily simply writing down what was unfolding before her. "Do ya?" He asked, a bit harder this time and I nodded my head quickly. "Tell me, please." I requested, and the grin was slowly starting to come back to his lips.

 

"I get real vvvviiiolllent.. And these uh.. DREAMS.. I see myself strangling poooor ol'Stanley to the point where he passES out! Then, you know what I do?" Another question, but he didn't leave time this time to answer it. "I get this knife, and slowly start stabbing him in the stomach. I rip at him until his internals become outernals. Until his organs are poooooooolin out over my hands, then... Then I cut a beeUUUTIFAL smile into that PUG FACE of his, and cut the entire thing off! Of course I gotta make it into a uh.. A waRNING for the other guards that they gotta.. RESPECT me.. You know what I do with his cUT OFF FACE?" I was listening intently, even leaning closer to the table, hell I was leaned over the table by the time that he had popped the next question. My eyes were wide, wider than they had been in a long time with.. Lots of curious intent behind them. Joker seemed to revel in that too.. "What do you do?" I asked quietly, my voice nothing more than a breath. He smirked then. "Why.. I hang it up in the staffroom so everyone can see what happens if you disrespect me or my uh.. TOYS." He stated simply, then, he leaned back, sat up straight in his chair, turned his head, oh so slowly, towards Stanley, who I could now see, was quaking in his boots, and jerked towards him, which caused Frankie, in a fit of fear and adrenaline to taser the poor fella! I could tell he hadn't actually been planning to well. GO AFTER STANLEY, he just wanted to SCARE him a little!

 

Joker fell from the seat he was on, shaking on the ground and laughing, that evil, maniacal... Captivating laugh. I was quick to jolt from my seat, Emily yelling something at me to sit back down, but I ignored her and rushed over to his side, swatting away the two guards. "FRANK! Couldn't you see him starting to sit back down and FACE ME?!" I barked, eyes narrowed in slits at him. "Go stand by the door." I told the both of them, Frankie still fumbling over words in an attempt to apologize. Unneeded.

 

My hands carefully steadied him on the floor from his rocking once the shock finished, gazing down at him and raising my eyebrows carefully. "Are ya okay, Mistah J?" I asked him slowly, hoping that he wouldn't break into a fit of violence with me knelt on the floor there next to him. His hand reached up, and I could see Stanley drawing up again, but instead of hitting me or choking me, he slowly trailed those cool finger tips up over my jugular and up across my chin, brushed his fingers against my lips before he traced them along my cheekbone.

 

"I knew you were different, Kid."

 

"Alright then, I think thats enough excitement for today," Emily started, standing and moving to tug me onto my feet, the notion causing Jokers fingertips to brush me again and he continued to lay there for a second and watched as she tugged me to the proper side of the room again. "Boys, escort J back to his cell, and for gods sake, Frankie, don't touch your taser again unless he HITS someone!" She ordered.

 

Emily was a scary lady when she wanted to be. But Joker looked scarier right now. He was staring at her, eyes like daggers as the two guards, both standing further away from him than needed, helped him off the floor. His blue gaze flicked to me before he was tugged out of the room, and he shot me a wink, and tapped the side of his nose like he knew something. Like we shared a secret that no one else was clued in on, but the issue was.. I don't think that even I was clued in on it..

 

A month went by, and our sessions were usually much the same as that one, J would only talk to me, ignore everyone in the room and grow irritated each time Stanley addressed me.

 

Stanley had a habit of flirting with me apparently, J pointed that out, and apparently, he did not appreciate it.

 

I wonder why? 


	3. Emily Marie Smith.

Today was a particularly special day, I was with Emily in the cafeteria before our session with J, and in fact, the gorgeous clown was sat down, eating away at a fantastic looking cup of vanilla pudding. He seemed to be enjoying it too, his face looked content as he suckled the treat off the spoon. I parted ways from Emily for a moment to take a seat across from him, a smile gracing my lips as he looked up and met his eyes with mine, a wide grin matching on his the moment he saw that it was me. 

 

"Ohhhhh Haaaaaaaaaaaaarleeeeeeyyy~" He cooed in greeting, head doing that cute little swaying thing that it usually did. "What a tAAAHHHH-REAT to see you so much! This'll be the first of uh.. TWO times today right?" 

 

"That's right, Mistah J, our session is at one." I nodded, giggling quietly at the genuine excitement that came across his face. "Ahhhh thats riiiighttt..." He purred, leaning back to push another spoonful between his lips. "What's that you're eating there?" I questioned.

 

The question seemed to take him by surprise and he stared down at the little treat with slight thought. Then, confusion crossed his face as I suppose he realized he didn't really  _know_ what it was. His head whipped to the side quickly those eyes staring up at Stanley. He was quiet for a moment before, "Stanley ol chap, what's this called again?" Stanley looked annoyed, and refused to answer him. It seemed to agitate J that he was being blatantly ignored. His lips curled slightly, twitching into a snarl. "Stannyboy.... I asked you a QUESTION." He barked, and Stanley rolled his eyes. "It's Puddin." He responded simply. 

 

"Well there ya go!" He grinned, all anger gone as soon as his eyes were back on me.. 

 

I'd actually been right about to reply when Emily had called me over. One look in her direction and I could see that she was seemingly thinking about something as she watched us. Her brows were furrowed and lips curved down into an unpleasant frown. What was going on? 

 

"Oh noooo.." Joker began to drag out. "Soooomebody is gonna get a uh.. SCOLDING from granny! Try not to get yourself GROUNDED before our next meeting, would ya kitten?" He reached out then, and just like before, his fingers traced along my jaw, brushing over my lips after as he sent a wink in my direction. At this point I couldn't fight the blush that came to my lips at his flattery and flirtatious behavior. I was sure he was like this with plenty of his female therapist. Even if his profile said otherwise.

 

"I'll try my best, Mistah J." I promised with a smile, standing from the table and trailing back to Emily. I couldn't help but glance back to him, his eyes were stuck on me again, though no smile was present. He just stared with this intense look in his eyes, lips slightly parted and his breathing seemingly ragged. He seemed.. Fixated on something.. On me.

 

I met Emily and gave her a charming smile, she however, did not return it this time and sighed as she pushed her glasses up onto her nose properly for probably the hundredth time that hour.  "Harleen, darling, I believe we need to talk, privately, before the session with Joker." She said quietly. Her tone held nothing happy, this was indeed what Joker had implied, a scolding. Something was wrong and it was definitely something to do with me and odds are I was about to be in trouble. But for what, though, I didn't know. Did I do something wrong when addressing J? I thought we were making good progress with him, he wasn't half as violent, and he even stopped threatening Stanley. Or, no. That was a lie. He just stopped threatening Stanley  _as **often**_ as he did before. I had obviously agreed in the form of a nod, too lost in my own thoughts and the anxiety that began swarming in my stomach, what if, what she was about to say, could get me fired? No. Nononono. Please, god don't let that be what happens. I could not lose this job, I.. I could not be so far away from the Joker. 

 

We entered her office and she made her way around her desk to take a seat behind it in the big, comfy looking black chair she often fell asleep in after our sessions with Joker. She said they always tired her out. I couldn't blame her, a women of her age, which was sixty-two, by the way, dealing with such an eccentric fella? Well, I'd be tired too! "Have a seat, Harleen." She murmured, gesturing to the chair before the desk. I smiled politely, thanking her and then sitting down. I watched her for a moment, fiddling with the sleeve of my doctors jacket. Emily seemed to be just as anxious as I was, if not more. She sighed out and her hand raised to rub across her forehead a couple times, the stress the woman was feeling showing through in the way her emerald eyes slowly closed behind the dainty pink frames of her glasses, small nose crinkling up into a grimace. 

 

"Harleen," She started. "I'm a mother of three girls and two boys, and a grandmother of three. I've got a degree in psychology and I'm the longest psychiatrist to last here at Arkham.. When I came here I was just a pretty young thing, just like you," She started slowly. "And when I was taking on my first patient I grew so horribly obsessed with him that they had to suspend me for four months. It is not easy to be a women on her own for four months with no work. I had to wait for my previous patient to be released before I could return because people had caught on to how.. Attached.. I was getting.." I could already see where this was going. "And now that I'm older, wiser, I can see that my patient had been simply trying to manipulate me, and now that I've got three girls of my own.. They all want to be come therapist. They want to work here at the Asylum with me, and Harleen I've refused to let them take the jobs here. I've prevented them from getting offers because I know what a place like this does to beautiful young souls like theirs, like yours." She sighed and took the glasses off her face, and placed them before us, folding her hands neatly then on the desk.

 

"I would like to ask you why you took this job, Harleen. You do not have anyone who has worked here before that would draw you to it in your family, and you know of the reputation of this place, and you've seen what some of the patients are capable of and yet you show up to work looking anxious and excited and ready to start your day, and after observing you quite closely for the past month, I would honestly like to know why?" Her eyes opened, and I found myself lost in them. I came to realize that Joker was right, and Emily was quite like a granny figure to myself. I could see myself in her, or rather.. See her in myself. I stared knowingly into those emerald pools.. They were so filled with concern..

 

"Well.." I started, crossing one leg over the other carefully and folding my hands much like she had, in my lap. "To be truthful I wanted to take on this place as a young therapist because, where better to learn the game from? After all after dealing with the patients in this place, one I get to the other places.. Well.. They'd seem like a walk in a park, if I ever do move on from here, of course." I explained, but I wasn't disclosing the full truth of it all. No.. The reason I was so excited and ready to take this place on had more to do with a specific patient in here rather than the experience. I wanted to witness the Joker, observe his psyche and maybe get inside it a little and be able to fully say that I knew the Joker inside and out, knew his quirks and what made him tick, knew every inch of not only his persona but the man behind the laugh.. I ached and itched and craved to be his therapist, or to at least sit in on it because it'd still give the same feeling.. Emily seemed to already know that though..

 

"And because of the Joker's presence here, too, right?  You were interested in his psyche, which is incredibly understandable most psych majors who come here or know of him in general, are always intrigued by him, by his brain and his personality and psychosis. Many of them are very interested in the idea of witnessing this up close and god knows every therapist here in Arkham once wished to be the person that he would give all of his information to. We know nothing about who he was before the psychosis, we don't know his name or his family or what even happened leading up to the life he now lives. He has never so much as gestured a finger in that direction during any session with any doctor, and they all, we all, crave to be the ones who he does go down that lane with. But.. Joker has, quite honestly, never been a big fan of therapist. Every one we've brought in to him he's either pushed away, ignored completely, attacked, or, even in some cases.. Murdered. Which is why it was a very risky decision for me to let you into his sessions. You see, Harleen, I see you as another daughter," She paused to laugh as she closed her eyes. I found myself smiling at the sound of her delightful, lady like laughter that floated throughout the room and broke the serious moment. Maybe that's why Joker had let her play his case for so long. The women could laugh in even a serious moment. "Perhaps with my age I could see you as my granddaughter. Needless, I see myself in you and I would not like to see you get hurt in any way, which is why I have to request that you quit Jokers case-"

 

I was quick to cut her off this time, shifting forward in my seat and uncrossing my legs. The smile dropped and my eyebrows furrowed tightly, sadness washing over my own eyes and I saw it reflected in hers. "Off his case? Why? He hasn't attempted to hurt me and has done nothing to suggest that it was his intent to do ever-"

 

"Harleen," She said, cutting me off as I had her mere seconds before. "I am a therapist of many, many years. I can see the signs of an obsession from three miles away, and as up close as I am and was with you, it's not hard for me to see that you're growing this obsession for him that harbors feelings that are beyond a doctor and patient relationship. He's indulged you in his deepest darkest fantasys and you've seemed to revel in it, almost like you enjoy the thought of the sick twisted things he would like to do to people, and.. Well, to be quite honest, I am worried. Not only because of your obsession as that wouldn't be half as unhealthy as the one he's developing. Doctor Quinzel you must have noticed it." I shook my head. "He hates when Stanley looks at you and his romantic advances on you, often sends Joker into a fit of rage and threats, which was what resulted in the incident where he.. Well he told you about how he'd like to cut off Stanley's face, remember? And it's unhealthy and it's dangerous, if he grows much more obsessed with you it could put not only your life but others in danger. Joker is a man who will not sit back and be withheld form something he wants, he will kill anyone and everyone in his way to get to his goal, his prize, his **_toys._** Not to mention his obsession for you, with his manner of psychosis, could lead to him eventually killing you when you don't live up to the fantasy that he's put you two in. So I'm asking you, not as a co-worker, not as your mentor, but as your caring friend, to please, calmly accept the fact that you will be removed from his case, and I will find you another patient to treat, one less likely to grow this sort of attachment to you. Please, Harleen..." Her voice was pleading, she was truly concerned, terrified of the fact that Joker could hurt me for being who I was.

 

I couldn't deny her that. I couldn't say no when she was so worried about me like this, and her points were very good ones. She had just made me realize that I was indeed growing too fond of Joker, that my obsession was with more than just psychology related adventures into his psyche, but.. Him. I was obsessed with him. Hell, I was even dreaming about him.

 

"Alright, alright.." I sighed, pushing  my hair back and nodding my head. 'I'll do that.."

 

And so, that afternoon, while Emily went to the session with Joker, I went on med runs, and the next day, she appointed me to a girl named, Lucy Robinson, a sweet young girl who suffered with depression. She was a low security patient as she was under her medications and wasn't nearly as dangerous as the others, in fact, she wasn't even going to stay here long. She'd made a pact with her friend for them both to kill each other, or rather, Lucy would kill her first, and then kill herself, and well.. The cops reached Lucy before the second part of the plan could be done. I liked Lucy, I truly did. But she was no Joker, and I suppose that was sort of the point. Lucy was quiet and sad, and she often cried during her sessions when she talked about her friend and why they did it, the pain that came with her parents abandoning her. I felt sympathy for her, and I had hoped that I could help her enough that she could be released soon. After all, she was not a criminal. She was not evil. Unfortunately though, Emily had told me that during her session last with Joker, that he did not seem pleased that I hadn't been there, and of course, at a stupid statement Stanley made. Did that man want to die? There was nothing I could do though, not myself. Nothing nothing nothing. I was not allowed to talk to him.

 

Which is what lead to me walking straight past him in the cafeteria. "Hey, Haaaaaaarley-gril, I missed ya at- wait, where ya goin?" He'd called out to me as I walked past. I put my head down and cringed at the sound of disappointment in his voice when I didn't turn to sit with him. And the nickname.. This man was something that would be hard to let go of, after all with those killer looks and the charisma and the flattery that I definitely would not receive from Lucy..  I had glanced to him as I sat with the girl, reached across and held her hand while I greeted her softly, knowing that the louder tones of voice often made her cry because she had some idea that we would be mad with her when they were used. I caught his expression in that moment. Pure anger radiated behind his eyes and he even looked a little jealous. His eyes darkened and his head tipped forward, eyes staring directly at Lucy this time with this burning hatred, lips pulled back in a snarl. It was session day again, and I felt bad that Emily would have to deal with him in this state. 

 

I did not see him slipping a pudding into his pocket before he left.

 

* * *

 

 

There was some sort of commotion later that afternoon, around the time that Emily should have been having a session with Joker. The alarms were going off and there were guards rushing down towards therapy room C. Police sirens could be heard, and ambulance,  I could hear screaming and.. And laughter. His laughter.. I felt a bone chilling shiver slide up my spine, there was something wrong, his laughter was loud and demented as always, and it was echoing the halls, heard so clearly above all the chaos. I saw it then as I was, fast walking towards the room. Emily had been in there. Had he done something? I saw the guards then, ten of em all stocked up in some heavy duty armor, dragging a currently black eyed bleeding Joker from the room, the guy was still laughing, wrapped up in a straight jacket and writhing about in their holds. 

 

"Ding dong the BITCH IS GONE!" He was singing through his laughter, but then he saw me, and the laughter stopped. A grin spread across his lips and he wresteled against the guards holds for a moment, I found myself faltering in my step. I couldn't breathe right just then. He was staring directly at me, covered in blood and.. And pudding? And.. Brains..? God only knows. "Harlequin... Haaarrllllequinnnnn.... Haaaaaaaaaarllllllllllllquiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn... Go see the painting I did for you my little... HARRRLLLQUINNNN..." He sang, as the guards dragged him off. He disappeared, but his laughter still echoed.

 

I felt goosebumps cover my skin, terrified and enticed all at once. What did he want? What did he mean? What did he  ** _do..?_** I turned and quickly shoved past the amount of guards and such that was around the door, all holding their mouths like they were about to be sick. That's when I saw it.. That's when I felt sick. The first sight was Stanley, on the floor with his eyes wide open, tear stains still on his cheeks with vomit next to him and all over his face and his clothes and a spoon shoved down his throat, the tip of the handle barely sticking out with an empty cup of pudding laid neatly next to his head. Stanley was dead.

 

Then there was  _her.._ I couldn't help but step over Stanley and rush to her side. Emily was on the floor with bruising around her throat, her eyes were closed and she looked quite content and peaceful. She had a bit of blood dripping from her lips, from her nose, her eye was bruising and it seemed like she had struggled a bit at first, all the chairs toppled over and her notes all over the floor. But she just looked so peaceful. This was honestly the most peaceful I've seen her look, and it wasn't just because she was dead because Stanley over there looked pretty terrified and stressed still with his wide open eyes and vomit covered body.. But her... I couldn't breathe. My chest felt tight and I felt like I was going to scream. I felt like I was going to die and I felt like the world was ending. I looked around the room then, teary eyed and breathing heavy but not breathing all at once, and then I saw it on the wall, written in blood and pudding. 

 

**_WHERE WERE YOU, HARLEQUIN?_ **

 

It was my fault.. It was all my fault...

 

 

Later that day, Lucy was found beaten to death in a dumpster in the cafeteria.


	4. Shut Up.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. All I could hear was that insufferable laughter. All I could hear was laughing. Laughing, laughing laughing laughinglaughinglaughing. I couldn't even see anything. All around me was black, dark, a void of nothing but his laughter.  _ **WHERE WERE YOU, HARLEQUIN?**_ The words echoed about my brain, screaming into every thought even when I tried to focus on something else. Screamed at me when I closed my eyes or when I opened them, they vibrated in that black void surrounded by his stupid laughter. They stood in gigantic, bold purple and green letters, they even had a bit of a wave factor to them like some cliche video font. Why was it like this? Why was it like this? Suddenly it was like a light was being turned on in front of me, bringing my attention to him at last. Joker. That tall, green haired, blue eyed, infectious man. That stupid metal smile was beginning to spread across those red lips of his. What did he want from me? Why was he doing this?

 

"Oh my little  ** _Harlequin._** You're makin a beah- _utiful_ transformation to the real you~.." That voice came singing out through the laughter that continued to bounce about whatever area we were currently locked in. Real me? This was the real me! What was he talking about? I tried to talk to him, tried to speak but it was like I didn't have a voice. I couldn't talk. I couldn't breathe. He grinned again, suddenly he was dressed in just the track pants that come with the uniform at the Asylum, and he was slowly walking towards me. Those interesting tattoos that he had all over his body were out and on display, what a narcissistic.. He even had his own self proclaimed name on his stomach. "That's it," He purred quietly as he got closer. It was like he had teleported, one minute he was approaching me from what seemed to be the other side of the room, and then he was behind me, those cool hands sliding over... My bare.. My bare shoulders..? His hands were tracing along my skin, down my arms and then across my back, his face was unbearably close to  me, I could feel the heat of his breath fluttering against my neck. His body was so close, I could feel his chest against my back, feel his bare skin against  _my **bare skin.**_ I felt his lips brush against my neck and I felt my heart stop, it was like nothing else was happening in this world. How was this even happening? "Let go.. Let  _her_ take over.. Let yourself be  _who you **really** are..._" He purred, but his purr wasn't even remotely similar to an actual purr, his voice sounded like a jaguar.. A growl.. But a soft.. I couldn't explain it. I still didn't know what he was talking about. I am me! I wanted to shout at him, ask him why he had to kill them, why it was my fault, why he seemed to think I wasn't who I truly was. I am  **Harleen Quinzel** and that  _is_ who I am!

 

Then he was gone, and there was laughter again, but it was normal laughter. I recognized it as the warm laugh of Doctor Emily Smith. She was a gem, she really was, and her laugh was so nice and kind, soft and kinda squeaky because that was just what her voice was like. It was squeaky and girlish, she always sounded so cute, precious even. How could Joker have ever hurt her? She was always so kind to him, too. Well, maybe kind wasn't the right word. But she wasn't rude, she didn't mistreat him like the others did, she didn't abuse him, she didn't.. She didn't deserve to be the focus of his anger. His anger was suppose to be directed at me. I was suppose to be the one laying on the therapy room floor with bruises around my throat and a black eye. I was suppose to be dead.  _Oh no you're notttt..._ Who was that? Before I could focus more on that little voice, the situation changed in a flash of pink and blue mangled together.  I was suddenly sat across from Emily herself, I felt so restricted though.. Itchy. Looking down I could see that I was well.. I was in a straight jacket. In my underwear. Sat on a very, very cold metal chair. Why was I in my underwear? Better yet, why was I in a straight jacket? Across from Emily? She was dead. She was dead and gone. I must be dreaming. "Hello, Harleen," Emily started, eyes on her notes, pushing her glasses up carefully. "How are you feeling? How are the new medications?  Any side affects that you've noticed?" Why was she treating me like a patient? What was happening? I knew that I had a bit of an issue, especially being so obsessed with such a psychotic piece of shit, but.. But.. I didn't belong here. I didn't belong being a patient.

 

"I don't belong here." I said. Finally! Finally I could speak. Was it because of Emily? "Why am I here?" I asked, a little quieter this time. My voice sounded foreign to me. It sounded higher, different. It wasn't mine. Wasn't me..  _Yes it is._ Who  **was** that?! Emily interrupted again. "Harleen, after attempting to take the Joker on by yourself you went insane. You slaughtered ten guards and suffered a mental break. You remember, don't you?" A mental break? Taking the Joker on by myself? No. Nonono. That wasn't want happened. She was dead. "You're dead." I said after a moment. Emily's normal appearance started to change when I said it. Suddenly she was pale, paler than pale, and those bruises were back on her body and she looked almost sad. "It's your fault, Harleen." She said, her voice low and haunting. Then, Stanley was behind her too. I looked to him, pudding still smeared across his face, spoon stuck out of his mouth. He seemed to try to gargle that it was my fault. Then, that was all I could hear as another flash of mangled pink and blue exploded in front of my eyes and I was left back in the dark.  ** _LET HER OUT_** was now the words in pink and blue, floating about in the darkness. Who was she?! I wasn't harboring some insane fugitive inside my body! What did they want from me?! I'd started to tear up, stumbling backwards. No. Nono. This couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare. I need to wake up. I kept stumbling back until I smacked into something.. Something hard. I turned around to see that damn clowns face again, and he was laughing. "Let her  _out_ Harleeeeyyyy...." He purred, and then he was gone. 

 

"I don't know what you  _want!"_ I yelled out into the darkness, but then that voice was back. It wasn't just in my mind though this time, and I realized.. It sounded exactly like mine did in the scene with Emily..  _"Let me ouuuut Harleeeen... You're gonna be a bore for liiiife without me..."_ The voice purred, and it sounded so close to me, so so damn close.

 

The light came on again, unlike last time, Joker wasn't in the spotlight but.. It was me.. I was there, with bleach blonde hair and skin as white as paper, I was dressed in a doctors coat, but instead of my normal skirt and blouse, this version of me was wearing a.. Dress. A gold and black dress.  What was going on? "Who are you?" I whispered, but I knew she would hear me. She was me. Did it work that way? I didn't know. A grin came to her red painted lips, a grin so similar to Jokers.  _"Ohhh.. Oh I'm Haaarley Quinn.. Queen of Gotham City! Right hand gal to mistah J himself! My puddin, ain't he a HONKA HONKA huh?"_ I knew what was happening now. I was dreaming up the fantasy that part of my brain wanted. But I didn't want that. I didn't want this. I didn't want to be that girl.  _"Oh yes you do, Harleen. You want this life. You need this life."_ Harley seemed to purr as she began to walk over to me, it was a weird sensation, you know, feeling my own fingers tracing my own arms like Joker had moments earlier. 

 

 _"You want to be with him. I can't blame ya! Well.. I am you.. So.. I really can't, but ya know, a lotta people can't blame ya for it! He's a hottttie! A lil messed up in the brain but ain't that the fun of it all? That's why you took this job at Arkham after all, ain't it? To have an interesting life, live the life of a psycho maniac without becoming one. But you wanna be come one. You want it.. You crave it. That's why you went after him. That's why you wanted to be around him. Ya know what they call it when one persons psychosis causes another person to suffer with a similar one? Do ya? Ya definitely should! Harleen Quinzel, top of ya psychology class, and ya can't even answer a simple question!"_ I knew the answer.  "In English they refer to it as Madness of Two.." I said quietly, frozen in my spot there with this Harley dancing around me, her psychotic little giggles echoing about the dark area when I finally answered.  _"Yeah, that's right. And guess what, Harleeen? That's what the good ol doctors of Arkham are gonna uh.. What's that word?"_ "Diagnose..."  _"Yes! That's it. That's what they're gonna diagnose ya with!"_ Then she was gone, and Joker was behind me again, his cool hand snaking along my arm, placing a gun in my slim fingers. What was happening anymore? This was a weird dream. A really weird dream. "You know how to use one of these, kitten?" He purred and I shook my head. I've never touched a gun in my life. But once again I couldn't speak. I couldn't move, I could only let him do what he pleased. My mother was standing then, right in front of us, looking terrified and shaking. Her blonde hair looked like it was going to fall out, and her green eyes were tear filled, lips pulled back into a sob. "Please, Harleen, don't do it, you don't have to do this!" She begged. I felt my eyes sting with tears. Why was he making me do this. "Pull the trigger for daddy.." Joker whispered in my ear, before those.. Really soft.. Lips.. Were trailing kisses.. Down my neck.. I couldn't focus right, so he positioned my hand properly, his finger over mine on the trigger, before he forced me to pull the trigger. The gun made a loud bang noise, and I watched with wide eyes as the bullet took my mother right between the eyes.. And with one last sob, she fell to the ground. Dead. "Ooohh baby.." He cooed. Then, I was laughing. I couldn't stop laughing. It felt  _good.._

 

I sprung up from the confinements of my sheets, tears pouring down over my cheeks and sweat causing my hair to stick to my forehead. I looked around the room slowly, taking in where I was slowly. I was home. I was safe home in my own bed. I looked to the clock on my nightstand and let out a small sigh.  ** _3:43 AM_**. Well I might as well get up, I wasn't going to be going back to bed anytime soon. I pushed the sheets off my legs all the way, slowly swinging them to meet the warm soft carpet of my bedroom floor, standing from the bed and slowly trailing out of the room, down the cool tiled hall and wandered down to the kitchen, pouring myself up a glass of water from the tap before downing it. My eyes traveled slowly to the window, seeing a guy sat hunched over against a building across the street, probably a homeless. Not unusual. What was unusual though, was the flash of mangled pink and blue that lead up to me seeing him with his skull cracked open and blood pooling down the street. I shook my head quickly, hand raising to grip the side of my head. No. Nonononono. This couldn't be happening. I blinked a couple times and looked out again. He was back to normal. OKay. So.. I needed more sleep. Or maybe I needed to start working again. After all, I'd had the last two weeks off. They understood that I was close to Emily, and they knew that Harlequin, after Jokers screaming it at me, was well, me.  Not to mention the beating of my patient. Oh poor.. Poor Lucy. When they found her, she didn't even have any eyes left in her head. One of the insensitive piece of shit guards had joked, " _Well guess there wont be an open casket for this one._ " Before he called in the cops. Poor Lucy. 

 

Well, I'd dressed myself, got myself ready for work, and headed in. When I got there, the head psychiatrist was staring at me intently form the other side of the little so called staff room. "Harleen," He spoke, Doctor Derek Wells. Top dog. He was an elder guy, nice fella too. "We'd like you to take on the Joker on your own," No. Nononon that was bad.  _Yes. Yesyesyes._ Shut up, Harley. "We know this is a big thing to ask of you, given the incident a few weeks ago involving your mentor and your patient after being taken off his case. But, we've tried every therapist willing to deal with him and he's either attacked or neglected them all, none of them are working and he's requesting specifically for you." No. I can't do it. I didn't say it, but I can't do it.  _Take the god damn job you pussy!_ Did this bitch ever shut up? "I'm sorry I--" Suddenly it wasn't like I was incharge of my body, a smile came across my lips after, my hand raised and pushed my glasses up. "I'll do it. I'll start today. Let him know." Nonononnono.  _What did ma always tell us, Harleen? If ya want something doneeee..._ Do it yourself. Yes. I remember. Derek looked delighted, nodded his head and went off to get someone to inform J of the changes. 

 

Around one that afternoon, I found myself standing outside of the therapy room, breathing heavily.  _Oh just get in there ya pansy!_ So I did. I listened to the psychopath hiding out in my mind. Crazy, right? I pushed open the door and paused when I saw them leading him in in a straight jacket. At least he was restrained, I thought. I closed the door and moved to sit down carefully. "J," I started but he looked so mad. He looked pissed. "Well well welllllll..." He started, voice dark and low. "Look what the cat dragged in!" He snarled, head tilted back and nose upturned. "I didn't think I'd get to see  _you_ again Dr. Quinzel. I thought you'd be off  _with other people!_ " He was treating me like I had cheated on him or something!  _Well, ya kinda did, dollface._ Oh shut up! "How is dear ol Lucy? Oh right, shes  _dead._ " He snarled. What was I suppose to do?  _Tell him you missed him._ What? What good would that do?  _Tell him, Quinzel. Tell the guy the truth! He'll revel in it!_ "I missed you, Mistah J." I said quietly. For some reason, it felt like that had lifted such a weight off my chest.. How true had it been?  _Pretty true. You've dreamed about him eveeery night since ya left!_ Shut up Harley. 

 

J's face lit up instantly at that. "Oh ya missed me did ya? Oh, Doctor.. I've missed you tooo.." He cooed quietly, leaning against the table slowly. "I missed you lots. Ya know? I've been askin for ya but they said you were takin time off. Made me real sad, reall... Lonely..." He said, mocking a sad tone as he pouted those pretty.. Soft.. Lips at me. Nonono. Pull yourself together Harleen.  _Oh you wanna kiss him!_ I do not!  _Do too~!_ Shut. Up. Harley. I smiled back at him, and a hand reached out without realizing it, brushing my fingers across his cheek gently. "I was pretty lonely too." I said softly, as he leaned his head into my hand. "Oh, I cherish these moments with you, Doctor." He said quietly. 

 

The session went on like a reunion. Like a.. reuniting session. Harley hadn't shut up, either. Stupid girl.  _I ain't stupid!_ See, always interrupting. A few weeks had passed, and J had really opened up to me in the sessions. Often I'd bring him candy or stuffed toys and in return he would tell me a bit about him. About his past. Never too much about his past though, plenty about him. He was a real nice fella! So today, I'd brought him a kitty! I think he liked cats, he definitely mentioned it once.  _He likes cats. He calls us kitten, remember?_ Shut up Harley. I entered and sat down with him, talked a little before I mentioned I had brought him something. "What is it?" He asked curiously, head tilting to the side in that odd.. Odd way of his. "A kitty," I hummed, taking it out of my pocket and wiggling its little paws at him. He grinned. "Oh cute.. I cherish these moments with you, Doctor." "Do you?" I questioned.  _Stupid question._ I ignored Harley. "Yes.." He said quietly, and his head began tilting side to side slowly. "That's why I gotta ask if you can do me an.. Itsy.. Bitsy.. Favor," He said, purring the words out at me as he leaned close to the table. A flash of pink and blue and I was leaning over to him, our lips connecting only for a moment before the flash happened again and I was sat in the chair once again. "Anything for you- I mean, yeah." I nodded to him and he grinned nice and wide. "I need a machine gun." A machine gun.. I stared at him with curious eyes. "a.. Machine gun..?" His lips pulled into a wide smile, eyes squinting at me as he gave me that open mouth, teeth filled grin, wheezing out a little laugh at me.  _You heard the man! Get him a machine gun!_ Harley!  _Do it! It'll get ya.. Kitten points!_ No!  _Yes!_ No!  _Yes!_...Yes.. "I'll.. Alright." I nodded my head and he grinned nice and wide.

 

Another flash of pink and blue and I was over the table again, hand on his cheek as we kissed deeply. Passionately. Fuck this god damn clown.  _You wanna fuck this god damn clown._ Harley. This isn't the time.  _Right on the metal table!_ Harley! My head was filled with her giggles then, I shook the thought, and went on then with the instructions that Joker had given me after.

 

The next day, the sound of gunshots echoed throughout the Asylum. And when a man wearing a goat head? Grabbed me, I knew I had fucked up.  _Oh, the fun has just begun._


	5. I'm A Slave To Your Game

**I'm just a sucker for _pain._**

I struggled. I fought and I kicked and I did the best I could to get away from them. "Get away from me!" My voice was a shrill shriek. I felt- I felt panicked. I was terrified, the fear freezing my blood in my veins, and this was just like every other nightmare I've ever had of that god damn clown. Why did I love him, again? Why? Why was I in love with that crazy asshole?!  _Because he's hot and he treats you like a Queen that's why._ **IS THIS HOW QUEENS ARE TREATED, HARLEY?!** _Clown Queens, yes._ Harley's a fucking idiot. The one with that giant goat head- why did he have a goat head on? What? Was this manditory for Joker's minions? Goat heads? What the hell?  _Well they look pretty funny ya know? And this way, no one sees their faces! It makes it easypeasy for them to pretend to be other important people! Like guards..._ Oh Jesus Christ. Frankie was a minion, wasn't he? Of course he was. Frankie was a fucking dick. Frankie was a scared dick who tasered Joker ones.. Frankie was probably dead. I'd given up my struggled fighting by this point, and the stupid goatmen strapped me down. I knew what was happening. Joker was going to kill me. After all the things I did for that man, after how incredibly nice I was to him, he was going to kill me. Of course he was. How stupid could I be? Of course I had let Harley cloud my judgment. Harley loved Joker. I did not. Harley loved him. I didn't.  _We're  two halves of the same whole, stupid._ I have a degree in psychology. I wouldn't have been manipulated by a clown man if it wasn't for this stupid voice in my head. When did she even get there? When  _did_ you get here, Harley?  _Been here all along sugarplum!_ Don't call me names. Okay, so I've had her my entire life, she's only just now started speaking. I'm insane. I'm fucking insane. I am entirely ten hundred and thirty percent, insane.  _Ding ding ding! We have a WINNER!_ Oh shut up. 

 

"Well well  _wellll..._ Look what we have heeereee..." I heard his voice coming from behind me, suddenly I could feel chills going all over my body. I knew what was going on. Ugh, he was probably shirtless. Joker had mentioned he hated shirts in one of our sessions.. Session.. thirty nine, I believe, because they felt too restricting. Like straight jackets. He hated straight jackets. I squinted at the sudden light being shone down into my eyes, and when I could finally open them to look up, I found him right there next to the light. He was going to kill me. "What? Are ya gonna kill me, Mistah J?"  _Don't be foooolish, he LIKES us!_ You. He likes you.  _Same thing!_  

 

It was happening again. Sudden flashes. Flashes of pink and blue and I could basically feel Harley's soul combining with mine. What was I saying?  We didn't have different souls. I could feel her personality sliding into mine. It was slow. It was kinda painful. I stared at Joker through the flashes, I heard a faint "wha?" And then watched as his face flashed and his body moved in strange manners, like clips flashing from a movie, he even smacked his head a couple times. Was he fighting with himself too? Nah, probably not. Joker knew exactly what he wanted all the time. "Oh no, I ain't gonna hurt ya," He said finally once the flashes stopped. He had these purple gloves on. Signature. He also had these two little.. Paddles.. In his hand. Oh, great great great, look at that, he was gonna give me shock therapy! His file said he had gone through it multiple times daily sometimes,  my poor, poor.. Puddin. Wait, wait wait wait, Puddin? No, that was what Harley called him. Stop it, Harley.  _That was all you, Harleen!_ Great! Great great great. "I'm just gonna hurt ya," He was going with his hands now, a sick smile on his lips. "Really.. Really.. Bad.." Oh no, you wont. "You think so? I can handle it." I bit back at him stubbornly. Always an attempt to impress, I noted. I was always so desperate to impress him. Suffering through this and coming out of it fine, I could do it. He would be impressed by that, granted. 

 

The look that came over his face seemed to prove that he hadn't been expecting that as an answer, and his lip pulled up into a snarl, quickly moving to get a belt for me to bite down on, and guiding it into my mouth, between my teeth. Oh, oh  _Jesus_ this was really happening. I should've listened to my mom. I shouldn't have taken this job. I should've quit after Emily was murdered. I should've gotten outta here.  _Oh, no you wanted this. You need this._ Fuck you, Harley. You're not the one being tortured.  _Is it really torture if you like it?_ Yes. I don't like it, either. 

 

As soon as the word- or the uh, thoughts, left me, I felt a sudden jolt of shock vibrate roughly throughout my head, throughout my body. I clenched down hard on the belt between my teeth, a muffled cry exploding from my lips as I arched against the restraints. My eyes were squeezed shut, and all I could hear was faint laughter. I couldn't tell if it was Harley or the Jokers laughter, but, it was there, none the less. This shock lasted about 30 seconds, before he pulled the paddles away and I relaxed back into the table again, panting against the belt in my mouth. "Oh, so you can uh..  _Take it.._ Can ya?" J whispered melodically into my ear. His voice was husky, harsh and.. Kind of sexy, it definitely held a sexual undertone underneath the words. My eyes fluttered and I found him watching me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Oh, he was enjoying this. He was..  _Enjoying_ this. Harley was quiet. Hey, shouldn't you be making a stupid comment on that? Silence. Radio silence. Hey, maybe the.. Shock Therapy was making me sane again! I nodded numbly up at him, and he smirked back down at me, and pressed the paddles back against my head. Another jolt of shock and pain and... Tingles. Tingletingletingle! Oh, it felt kinda nice. Those tingles... Another scream, more jerking against the restraints, worse than the last time. It was so.. It hurt, it hurt so bad, and he was enjoying hurting me like this. This time, the shocks lasted a good minute, maybe a little less, but he was still loving it too much. When he stopped this time, he was giggling, watching me come undone like this must be a.. A  _kink_ of his. Pain kink. He was a _sadist._ I know this. I knew this. "Just a few more, Harley-girl.." He purred and then the paddles were back. But this time, it felt so.. So good. So good! I could hear laughter again. Harley's laughter. Harley's loud laughter, and my eyes were open, watching his face this time. He looked concentrated, excited, delighted. Then the flashes were back. Pink and blue mangled mess and I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe? IT was at that point that I realized I had opened my mouth, and started laughing around the belt. Oh fuck. That wasn't a good sign.  _Goodbye, Harleen._ A giggling mess! I was a giggling mess, and good ol'Harleen had done her job! She got us this far, that was for sure. But oh.. Oh now I had my  _puddin_ to get me the rest of the way. Good ol puddin. He'd do it. He stopped after a minute and a half, he set the paddles down, and began to laugh with me! Oh, we'd make such a perfect beautiful couple!

I looked up, his arms hands slid first back through his hair, and then extended out to the sides, head jerking as he let out a sigh of relief.. Of pleasure. "How are ya feelin now, Harleeeen...?" He purred after, and his gloved fingers stroked my head where the pads use to be. "Ohhhh.. Harleens.. GONE! She's long gone.. I'm Harley.." I giggled and he seemed to be pleased with himself. "Happy birthday, Harls." He grinned and moved to untangle me. It was finally time to realize that well, he was just in sweats. Ah, to be expected. Clothes were such a bore anyway! He could work it anyway. Did I just say anyway twice? Yeah, gross. I slid off the table with his help, and then, he had stroked my hair carefully, holding me for a second. "Just had to help ya get ya real self out n about." He said simply, before he had pushed me, roughly, back into the guards. He walked, swaggered, head swaying, body swaying. He stopped at the door, the guards keeping their rough grips on my hands. Assholes. He whispered something to the one guarding the door, and then left. The guard came over, and with the butt of his gun, roughly smacked me in the head! Ouch! Can't a girl catch a break after being electrocuted?! Oh no, black. I was out cold.  _Why don't I have control over my body?_ Harleen, sugar, I'm in charge now.  _No!Nono!_ Byebye, Harleen!

 

I woke up in my own bed again, when I woke, things were off. I felt a little Harley, a little Harleen. I felt crazy as all hell, that was for sure. But I felt rationally insane. Was that a thing? Probably not. Oh shit, and my head hurt! I guess that was to be expected, though. I was on my side, my eyes fluttering to the time.  ** _2:02 AM._** OH, why had I woke up, then? Then I heard it. I heard something tripping, and a loud curse of words in.. In his voice. Jokers. Oh jesus christ was he in my room? I turned over slowly, to find him frozen like a statue. One that was in the exact position as one of the Bruce Wayne ones around town. Really, Joker? "Mistah J.. That you?" I asked quietly, squinting at him. His skin practically glowed, and his hair was glow in the dark, apparently. Of course. What a clown. What a beautiful clown. God, I loved this man. "Shhhh," He whispered. "Harley's sleeping." "But Mistah J-" "Harleys sleeping." I let out a long sigh, and nodded my head. "Harley's sleeping," I repeated, rolling back onto my side and curling up into the fetal position, tucking the pillow comfortably under my head. "Goodnight, Mistah J." "Goodnight, Harley-gril! Ooops!" He was a fit of giggles then, and I actually found myself falling asleep to the sound. The next morning when I actually woke up, I found. ' _Sweet dreams, kiddo!_ ' On my mirror in.. Blood? Nice. Classy, J. And in pink crayon on the wall,  ** _Fun fact: Green represents envy and love!_** Oh, how cute. For three weeks, that's how I woke up, until I had forced myself to quit the job at Arkham and decided to go after him.

 

He'd just robbed a bank. So I had been there, and of course, he got the goons to bring me home. Yeah, good job at trying to hide that you don't stalk me, J. Good job. But then, then was my time!  he'd just had fun at some diner, and I had showed there on a motorcycle. Don't ask where I got it.  _She stole it._ Shut up, Harleen. We're working here. I couldn't get his attention, not good enough, so of course I had to get it myself! It was left in a car chase in the end, and I was behind that pretty purple Lamborghini that he was always driving. How come he has a Lamborghini and I don't? Well he was a mastermind criminal who was definitely rich. Obviously thats how. He could definitely drive it too! Swerving around traffic and going like 200 almost. I'd managed to cut him off though, driving in front of the Lamborghini and blocking the road, his pathway. I stood there and watched as he slammed the brakes on in an act of desperation. He couldn't kill me. He could have just ran me over, but he chose not to. I tossed down the bike and walked, quickly towards the car, slamming my hands down on the hood. "You can't keep ignoring me, J!" I yelled, and slammed them again. "You have to let me in!" He got out of the car and walked towards me, head swaying and looking, oh so good. God, he cleaned up well.. Fuck him. I want to fuck him. But fuck him. "Well well well.. Hello Haarlleey.." He grinned and walked towards me. I came prepared this time, and pulled a gun out of my waist band, pointing it at him. "Why do you keep ignoring me, J?" I hissed. "Oh you can't kill me." 

 

What an ass.

 

"I can!" "No, you can't." He cooed. I stood there, finger trembling on the trigger. I'd never killed anyone before. But then.. Oh but then, then I could see someone coming up around behind him, yelling something about being in the way. That angered me. Didn't he know not to disrespect the King of Gotham!? My aim went from J to the man behind him, pulling the trigger and watching him fall dead. J actually looked surprised.  _Impressed._ A grin on his lips as the gun went back to him. "Oh look at you, killing to avenge my honor.." He cooed and came closer until the gun was directly against his forehead. "Pull the trigger, kiddo. Put poor ol' J out of his misery. I'm miserable without ya, after all.. I miss ya.." He cooed. I felt myself softening. I felt myself crumbling. "I want to see where you became.. Joker. I want to see where you made your.. Your change. I want to be with you." He took that moment to take the gun from me, laughing out that incredible laughter, placing the gun to his temple and swaying again.

 

"You wanted me dead a second ago, Harls. You want me dead? Oooh.. Just one FINGER twitch away!" He sang and I found myself growing worried, taking a step forward, but just as quick as that he was putting the gun away, and he was silent. "Take me there." I requested, before he pulled his hand back. I hadn't seen the hit coming, but his hand collided with the side of my jaw and I was knocked to the ground. I landed with a gasp from the impact of pain, hand raising to rub, hold my bruising cheek. Joker watched for a second before he was down before me, hand moving mine and gently caressing where he hit. 

 

"Oh, I'm sorry, kitten. Ya just frustrate me sometimes, ya know? Gets me all.. Irrational." He was purring, head swaying, hypnotizing me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't.. Breathe. He was so.. I loved him. "Will ya.. Take me?" He looked conflicted for a moment, but he nodded his head. "I'll take ya, kid. Get in the car." He stood, and I used his hand to stand, moving into the car.

 

The ride was silent, but about half an hour later, we were standing above a bunch of vats of acid. This is where he made his transformation. It would be where I made mine. I stared down at it, mouth kinda open, eyes lost. That's when I heard his gruff voice from slightly behind me, "Question," He started, and I turned my head, then my body to watch as he moved his head to exaggerate his words. "Would you die for me?" He questioned as I moved closer to him. His hand was up, fingers wiggling slightly. A moment of silence. Barely a few seconds. "Yes.." I said quietly, and he turned his head away, fingers wiggling again. "That's too easy.." He started. He turned back, and he started again. "Would you.." He paused, his hands moving with his words. "Would you live, for me?" I was quiet again, but smiling in the slightest. "Hm?" "Yes.." His hand came up, index finger on display, shaking it at me cautionally. "Careful," He said slowly, lack of eyebrows raising slightly. "Do not say this oat..  _thoughtlessly."_ His body was swaying this time, the entire of his being. His hand came up, the one with the tattoo of a smile, and he placed it over my mouth. His face looked thoughtful. Eyes closing during his words. "Desire becomes surrender becomes  _power."_ With the last word, his eyes opened, as if to symbolize the opening of ones eyes that power could bring. His hand was slowly sliding along my face, fingers caressing me, and then his index finger was against my lower lip. "You want this?" I thought for a moment. I wanted this. I did want this. "I do.." I murmured. He caressed my face again with his fingers, his face contorting into something different. It was like he was being.. Excited again. "Say it," He hummed. "Say it, say it say it," His fingers went up under my chin. "Pretty pretty pretty pretty..." "Please.." His face looked.. Enthused. He seemed happy by the words, and his hands extended by my face. "Goooodd..." He whined out. "You'er so.. Good~" He grinned. I had nodded, and he took a few steps away while I walked to the edge.

 

I stared over the edge, at the burning acid beneath that I was about to jump into. This was so utterly insane, jesus christ. I turned my body, looking at him. I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted to be his. His Harley.. He seemed to be watching anxiously, as I threw myself baack into the acid. The normal rush that came with falling hit me, and it was so exciting. I was about to say goodbye completely to Harley, and it would be fantastic.. Before the thought finished, I was under the acid, and god, it burned. It burned so bad. My skin felt like it was melting off my bones, my head felt like it was on fire, around me the once whiteish acid was going blue from, I guess, my shirt. That was being burned off my body too, I bet. And I just sat there for awhile. Burning. Melting. Dying. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate, before I felt hands dragging against me. I couldn't really feel anything but slight cold against the numbness of my body, but then I felt his lips. He was kissing me so.. Passionately. Technically now, we'd been married. I gasped as he parted, my eyes opening, to find him staring down at me, this intensity in his eyes, before he was leaning back down for another one. My hand held the back of his head and we shared another kiss, lips crushed together in a moment of intimacy, before he parted and I was left hugging his neck. He tipped his head back, and started to laugh. Laugh that loud, gorgeous laughter. His body swayed, and a grin shot across my lips, he kept dipping me into the acid with the sway of his motions, and it brought me into a laughing fit too.

 

Of course we couldn't spend forever in the acid bath, and so he had helped me out and we'd gone back to the car, he brought me back to his.. Apartment. Oh, well this just wouldn't do. We'd have to buy another one. A bigger one. One for two. "Lets get you cleaned up and into some ah.. NEW CLOTHES, Harley, it's honeymoon time." He grinned and, after a hour of trying things on for him, he settled for this little black dress. I admired myself in the mirror. I looked.. Like him. My skin was bleached like his, my hair had gone this incredibly blonde state, the ends of it stained pink and blue from the combining of our shirts. I looked... "Beautiful," He grinned, like he knew what I was thinking.

 

He took me to a restaurant, we'd ordered, and people around us were staring, staring at me, at him, they were being  _disrespectful._ I felt my lips curl back in a slight snarl, annoyance hitting me like a brick. Joker seemed to notice this, and slowly nudged a knife into my hand. I looked up at him, and he grinned at me. "Teach them to respect their  _Queen._ " He said quietly.

 

Oh.. I'd teach em, alright. I waited til the waiter came back before I had stood simply from the table, and jabbed the knife into his neck. Oh, that felt good. He fell and I placed a heel against his chest, ripping the knife out and moving to bring my flexibility into play. I knew this would be the first time J would see it, it would impress him. He needed to be impressed at all times. I flipped up onto one guys shoulders, legs wrapping tightly around his throat, using him to steer his way so I could bend my body back to grab the other, dragging him into a headbutt. He stumbled and I grabbed his neck, using him to be able to twist my body enough to snap the guys neck who I was on, before I had fell with the body, my hold on the others neck dragging him down, stabbing the knife into his chest. I sat on him, eyes wide, laughing. The noise was.. Creepy, creepy and beautiful. It floated past my lips as I kept stabbing him in the chest. I grew bored though, and ripped it back out of him and moved on to grab the nearest person, stabbing at them too.

 

With the combination of my flexibility and the knife, I'd killed the entire restaurant in the matter of minutes. J was sat at our table, head rested in the palm of his hand with a dreamy look on his face as he watched, proud almost. I had crumpled against the wall, unable to stop laughing. My knees had been pulled to my chest, fingers up by my lips as I laughed and giggled all the same, hair a mess around my face. Frost, as I heard J call him, had been trying to get me to get up, something about Batman coming, something about needing to go. But I ignored him.

 

"Ah leave the kid alone, Frost. It's our HONEYMOON!" J's booming laughter echoed from the center of the room, and he'd let me be for another good ten minutes, before I felt his presence over me. "C'mon kitten, daddy's got business to tend to." He hummed, but I just looked up at him, a sickening grin on my lips as I laughed, reaching out to him. He put one arm under my knees, the other around my back and lifted me effortlessly.

 

We made an amazing, laugh filled exit together.


	6. Daddy Issues

A few days had gone by with me in that silly stupor. But, something had switched back one night, laid on the bed in a crappy little apartment- J said this was only temporarily, that, _his_ Harley deserved better. I had been laying there for a good three hours until I heard him finally settle and drift to sleep, while Harley had crept to the depths of my psyche once more. I don't know what brought me back to my old self, to Harleen, but it happened and I was so thankful for it. I had climbed free of being tangled in the sheets, placing bare feet down onto cold, cement flooring. On my tiptoes I had slowly waltzed around the different discarded clothing items on the floor and to the long, body length mirror that was sat, propped up against the wall. The coldness on my feet sent tingles up my legs and into my spine, and it was the first time that I had truly noticed that.. Well.. I seemed to just be wearing one of his shirts. The fact makes me sick to my stomach. I feel it twisting and turning. I feel like I'm about to cry. There's blood on my discarded clothing, I do not know if it is mine or someone else's. There are cuts on my legs and on my face. I do not remember if it was Joker or someone else. Or myself. I do not remember anything from the moment I disappeared into the vat. That I remember clearly. The sudden notion to cry is welling inside. I haven't cried in a very, very long time. I have not. It is just, not what I do. It was- looked down upon, not only by my father, but my mother too. Of course, Mother was always more lenient with the rule than Father was. Father was a criminal. Father knew I had to be strong to live in this world without getting eaten alive.  I can't hold it back this time, though. He's used me. He's turned me into someone-  _something_ that I'm not. That I'll never be. He's driven me quite literally out of my own mind and now I'm left pretending to be this insane girl that he wants. That I'm sure he  _needs._

 

No more, though, I thought. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm getting help. Though, sprinkles of Harley Quinn still lingered absently in my brain, so, who can you imagine, is the first person I'd want to seek help from? My parents, of course. I had to go to my parents. I had to seek them out. I needed my mothers soft comfort and I needed to know that my dad was ready to bring me back into their home, even with my bleached white skin and my stained blonde hair.. I winced as I touched the locks before, with teary eyes, I whipped around and pulled the pair of jeans that had been tossed to the floor onto my legs, did them up as I got into the stilettos that were, no doubt, mine. Obviously they weren't Jokers. I had to stop for a brief second to giggle at the image of him in heels.. No. Stop that. You gotta move.

 

So, with one last look I took off. I was stumbling through the streets with Jokers scent wrapped around me. I could feel the fabric of the shirt wrapping around my arms like his hands, could feel it slowly sliding up, up, up.. Further.. Further until I couldn't breathe. My feet were pounding on the ground, the fact that I was wearing heels was what definitely made it more than painful, but I pushed through it. I couldn't breathe and I could feel his slender, cool, rough fingers wrapping around my throat, could hear that cold, dead laughter.  _Ha. Ha. **Ha.**_ My chest heaved and my throat burned with the need to breath, lungs stinging. A sudden echo of a crack bounced and began vibrating through the street as I took a tumble into the hard ground. Between strangled little gasps for air, I managed to look down and see... My heel was broken. Perfect. I shouldn't have put the damn things on in the first place. I felt trapped. I felt like I was drowning. I reached down and quickly moved to begin ripping the heels off, leaving them discarded on the ground as I rolled and pushed myself up off the ground. My knees stung, I probably hurt myself when I fell, but nothing hurt more than knowing that I had.. I had definitely done something really, really,  _really_ bad. Something that even I, as a psychiatrist, couldn't get over. I couldn't force my lost thoughts to the surface. I couldn't remember. I couldn't breathe. So I stopped trying. I just ran. Ran around corners and down alleys and through the woods until I had finally found it.

 

I stood there for a moment, kind of just staring up at the little house tucked away in the middle of a silly suburban street. It was a cute, small, red house. There were blue curtains in the windows and the grass was neatly trimmed, my mothers favorite garden gnome sat out front, a silly little man with a long white beard with fishermans clothes on. It looked like someone had broken the fishing rod that he would hold between his hard, fake hands. My mother called him Ronnie. No one, was suppose to touch Ronnie. I could only imagine the whiplash that the person who broke Ronnies rod had gotten. Then, in the window, the sight of my mother, a short little blonde lady with the prettiest complexion stood with her hair up in a bun on the top of her head. A smile on her lips. For some reason, the image made me realize why I was there again. Joker. Once more his scent had wafted into my nostrils and I felt herself let out a little sob. I didn't want to smell him anymore. To feel his hands. My hands started to work the buttons of the shirt, tugging the buttons off until it was left open. I hadn't even realized that I had started walking towards the door, every step reminding me that I had ran all the way across Gotham in my.. Bare feet. Which ached beyond comprehension which is probably why I refused to even so much as give Harley, wherever she was in the back of my broken mind, the satisfaction of looking down and seeing it. By the time I reached the door, I had pushed the white fabric off my shoulders and let it pool at my feet, raised a dainty little hand, and knocked.

 

The one who came to the door had been my mother, mid giggle as she opened, a smile had spread itself across her lips, but then, she was.. Looking at me, and.. The smile faltered, the giggle froze, morphed into that of a overly concerned gasp, her hands had dropped the cloth that she was drying them with, let the door slowly glide open to reveal me to the rest of the house as I stood there with a broken looking face, teary eyes and a cut up, bruised bare body. Clad in jeans and a bra. I, for a moment, felt my lip quiver, and felt my pale cheeks burn with shame from how she must have been feeling. But she didn't look ashamed, she looked.. She looked horrified. I had to pause to remind myself that my hair was stained pink and blue and that my skin was bleached white from the chemicals I had willingly jumped into during my mental break. "Mom," I croaked the word weakly, my throat became a wild fire at the action, my voice no longer sounded like my own, but it sounded dead and forced.. Probably from the fact that I felt like I had been choking the entire time. What, what on earth did I get myself into?

 

"Harleen.." My mother had cooed back in a sympathetic, terrified manner that gave away that she thought I'd just escaped being captured since I left for university, and in a sense, she was right. I had been captured since then. I had gone to university in hopes that one day I would get to pick apart the mind of the criminally insane Joker, and then I went to Arkham, where he trapped me and imprisoned me, and turned.. Turned me into Harley.. I fell blank again and I guess that my knees weren't as strong as they held up to be the entire ride there, because my mother had to catch me in her arms. She brought me inside, helped me up over the steps, ignoring my fathers protests to know what was happening. I didn't really know what to tell him, so I didn't bother stopping her. Hell, the women even put me into a tub and.. Well, she helped me scrub off the blood and dirt. And him. Then, she'd given me my old clothes, and wrapped me in a fluffy blanket. My father carried me down the steps and put me on the couch, where my mother had pushed a steaming cup of homemade cocoa in my hands. Guess mom remembered exactly how to comfort me. This always worked when I was a kid. Across from me on the flower dotted loveseat, my parents sat patiently waiting as I sipped the hot cocoa, felt it burn off my tastebuds. I knew I wouldn't taste anything the next few days.

 

"Well.." My mother urged, and I felt like crying when she did.

 

"I met a man," I started, because I wholeheartedly believe that I did love Joker, some sense of me did anyway, and maybe it wasn't that I loved him as a whole, I loved the him that dotted on me and treated me like a princess - no.. Like his Queen. "And.. It was at work.. And.." I paused to suck in a breath. "He's a very, very bad man.. He was my patient.. You.. You heard about the break out from Arkham, didn't you?" I whispered, fiddling with the cup. "Of course we did, that Joker nearly killed his psychiatrist. Poor girl.." My dad had mumbled, and I couldn't help but agree. Poor girl. Poor  _me._ "That was me.." I mumbled, not daring to look up, especially not after Mom let out the loudest, most shocked gasp that I'd ever heard anyone ever make, ever. "And.. he drove me outta my mind, ma, he really did." The accent was coming again, the one that came with Harley, but I didn't pay mind. "He broke me. Yknow? He ruined me. I feel.. Like I need t'get some help. Professional, help. Theres this uh, voice, in my head and she.. Well her name is Harley, n he created her durin' our sessions together, urged her out I guess and the electroshock therapy really.. Really dragged her outta the depths of hell up there and she kinda took over and it was, for a long time, a battle between me wanting to do the sane thing and her wanting to go batshit crazy, ya know?" I was rambling. My father was red in the face, my mother, well, she had no color. She looked as white as I did with the worry lines practically appearing with each time I spoke. I started fidgeting. "I didn't want any of it. Any of it. But I wasn't there no more after that but.. I remember chasin him down sometimes, during his heists and I remember following him to the vat that he fell into as a kid and I remember.. Sayin these vows.." My father seemed to lose it at that.

 

"Ya married that freak?!" His anger was evident. Did he not listen to a word I had just said about not wantin to be that way? Obviously not! His own accent was coming out, almost like he was challenging me with it as the stood from the seat, moms dainty fingers reaching to hold his shirt at the elbow. "Richard, calm down," She tried to soothe. "Let the girl finish-" "Shut up, Mary!" He snapped and I winced, quickly standing from my spot, fluffy blanket falling to pool at my feet. I felt cold. Inside and out. "Yeah, I mean, I guess I kinda did but it wasn't me! I didn't want nothin to do with him, I just wanted t'pick apart his mind n stuff and I ended up being driven out of mine and now he's callin me his Queen and I think I hurt some people real bad and I dunno if I did this to me or if he did and I dunno how long its gonna be until I have another episode and Harley comes out and-" 

 

**_Smack._ **

 

I didn't know what had happened, but suddenly my stomach had felt like it was on fire. The blossoming pain began to throb, my mouth opened and I looked down with shaky breaths, my father had knocked the cup of hot cocoa on me, and it was burning through my shirt. It seemed to be the last straw, the frustration, the pain, the terror, it was too much. My cheeks burned and my throat ached, screamed at me to scream. My cheeks suddenly were flooded with hot liquid, like I'd poured the hot cocoa all over my face. I was crying. Of course I was crying. I'd gone through so much at this point in time that I - I deserved to cry.

 

"Richard!" I heard my mother shout, her voice sounded distant as she shot up from the seat. Father ignored her. 

 

"I didn't want any of this!" I screamed at him, my voice quaking as I started to shake with my sobs, my hands moving to pull the shirt off my belly so it wouldn't burn and leave a nasty wound. I had enough of those already.. But it didn't seem to take any affect on my father. "Of course ya did! Ya saw what was happenin' in that god damn room and yet ya still let yourself return and get deeper involved with him! For God's sake, Harleen, ya married the bastard!" He was getting closer to me every time that he spoke, yelling and screaming in my face by the time he was done. "Now look at ya! Weak as a god damn baby and you came 'ere lookin for some kind of solution? Well ya ain't gonna get one when y'standing there blabberin about how ya married him!" "I didn't WANT TO!" I yelled back, my hands shaking in front of my stomach, my body shaking. 

 

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. I saw Richard start to move. I heard distantly the sound of my mother screaming at him to stop it. To back away. I saw the anger in his eyes, I felt sting of his hand colliding so roughly with my cheek that I had physically been knocked down from it. I also felt the snap that accompanied it in the back of my brain where Harley started to creep in through the back door, sniffling and crying with me. She was shaking too. I could see her back there with her pink n blue themeed out fits and her teary eyes. Big baby blues on display.  _We gotta return to him. He's the only one whose gonna love us. He understands us. He'll help us. Protect us.._ You're.. Right.. All rational thoughts aside, my so called father had just hit me. I was literally laying on the ground where I had grew up running into his arms calling out for my daddy, in the living room where I had taken my first steps running into his arms, where I thought no one would ever hurt me. In the house where, when, Jack Robinson, my school crush, had stood me up on a date only to tell everyone about it and turn me into the laughing stock of the school, I had come home and curled up on the couch with him, and watched cheesy videos until I fell asleep, where he tucked me in and where he had played barbies with me, even when his criminal friends didn't look too highly about it, where he had told a man that he'd paint his nails pink if it made me happy. Where he told me he loved me time and time before. And I was lying there, tears streaming down over my cheeks in silent pain, with a bruising cheek, a burn that was searing its memory permanently into my skin. And then came the kicking. The vicious kicking. I felt the air in my lungs leave, I felt the incapability to never take air in again. I felt the bruise forming on my side, felt the pressure nearly breaking my ribs. He was yelling still, obscenities flying out of his mouth like it was the only thing that he could ever say. My eyes were starting to go black, I couldn't breathe right, my throat was dry. I hadn't even realized that I was letting out choked little screams, couldn't hear my mothers over the sound of him yelling, over the sound of my screaming. Over the sound of the faint laughter that began to be choked out of me. "Filth!" He yelled. "Disgusting, fucking, filth!" Another kick. "Worthless piece of shit!"  He was finally, finally done when my mom grabbed his arm and ripped him away from me.

 

Mom was small, but she was strong. Capable. 

 

While my mother and Richard got into a screaming match, I had crawled myself up to the chair, used it to push myself into a bit of a standing stance, one hand falling to hold the side that had just taken the bouquet of attacks, and limped out of the house, down the path to the road and paused to look back. Tears were thundering down my cheeks, staring up at the house that I remembered as my childhood haven. I had wanted to come here, to get away, to get help, to be safe, and look at where I was left now?  _You're all.. Broken now. Aren't ya? We gotta get back to him. Gotta get his help.._ Ya right.. I had spent a good four hours getting back to the apartment, stumbling and coughing, wheezing a little. Joker was stood there, shirtless and looking like a cornered animal. He was snapping and snarling at goons that stood around. "Where IS she?" He snapped at one, who held his hands up in fear, stumbling back, while the other kind of cleared his throat. "Uh, boss," Jonny had started. "She's, over there." He murmured, gesturing over to me. I had winced, hoping that I could've just gone over and curled up somewhere, got healed up so that he wouldn't have noticed that I got hurt. 

 

He whipped around to me, stared me down for a moment and for a second, a brief second, I watched his face soften, going so incredibly gentle as he came over towards me, his hands out to touch my cheek. I winced, the bruise had blossomed enough into a deep purple, taking up the entirety of my cheek. His fingers brushed it and I winced a little, gripping tighter at my side. He seemed to notice it after a moment and lowered his hands, caressing my neck, my shoulders, trailing those cool, gentle fingers down over my arms until he could gently brush my hands away from my bruising, throbbing side, pulled the shirt up slowly and gently until he could see the blistering red on my stomach from the burn, and the large purple bruise on my side from the vicious kicking. "Oh kitten..." He started out in the gentlest purr, his voice deep and melodic, soothing. I felt like puddy in his hands, like I was finally safe. I was shaking a little under his touch, but I let him touch me, let him check to see if there were more cuts. He noticed too, the lack of shoes, the bloody scratched up feet.. Suddenly, it was like the devil himself had been implanted in him. His red lips curled back over metal grills in an aggressive snarl. "Do none of you.. Useless goons.. See that my lady here, ain't got no shoes?" He snapped. "And look at the poor gals feet! They're all cut up and uh, probably, pretty sore. Do ya know what that means?" He growled, a few of them coming over with a chair so I could sit, and I did. J had dropped to his knees before me, one of his long, strong hands caressing my knee, rubbing back and forth. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Harley-girl, Daddy's gonna take real good care of ya, alright?" He cooed quietly, before it seemed to properly dawn on him. "Who did this to you? Who?" He growled the words, and I couldn't help but marvel in his attention, his affections.

 

"I went t'say goodbye to my, uh, parents.." I started the lie smoothly, knowing if Puddin' knew that I wasn't plannin on stayin with him in the first place that he'd get mad. At me. "And I was tellin em about us, bout how I was happy and my dad..." I winced. "He poured my cocoa over me and slapped me.. Beat me up a little bit.." A dark part of my mind realized that, I had the power right now, to get Richard beaten up pretty bad. I let the tears come back, building up as I looked at him with the best doe eyes that I could muster. "He did this to me Puddin, he hurt me real bad.. I don't think I can walk.." Oh, he was fallin for it too. His face twisted with anger and he stood abruptly off his knees, whipped around to rip his custom made handgun from his pants, pulled back and smacked a goon with the handle when he had opened his mouth to talk. "Someone get me my jacket. Jonny, bring the car around. Get me some weapons. Bring my toys. Actually, bring the van, Jonny. Bring the van around." The van, I already knew about the van. He had his custommade funhouse in there. Lots of his toys. Jonny, knowing that he'd probably be in for a punishment if he didn't, went off to grab the van with a sigh, while the goons scattered off to get the things he had requested of him. "Oh, and bring Harlykins some shoes!" He yelled out after one. Two minutes and they were back. J was on his knees again, gently sliding the shoe on. Or as gently as J could, you know. He stood then and walked away. When I stood and let a breath of pain go, he paused. A goon had just about had me picked up when he whipped around with his gun pointed at him.

 

"Put. Her. Down." He snarled through clenched teeth. The goon did it, shaking, his hands slipped off and I was left shaking on my own. 

 

_**Bang.** _

 

Well, that one was dead now. Perfect. J stalked back over to me, a noise leaving him that sounded like a jaguar as he rolled his head back to show off the veins and muscle in his neck, before he scooped me up. "Don't you worry, my little.. Harlequin.. Daddy's gonna.. Take real good.. Care.. Of ya.." His voice was dark, so dark that I almost felt scared. Almost. I was scared for Richard. Kind of. 

 

The drive was quiet, but J was the first one out, sent me to the door first, J lingering back in the van, wanting to make a grandiose entrance of course. When Richard opened the door, I could hear my mother sobbing on the couch. His moderately calm face twisted into anger once again, and he had been about to reach and push me back. I could tell, and I stumbled back from him, almost falling when Jonny had darted from the side knowing if I fell J would have all their asses and caught me, the other goons simply forming a crowd around. "Uh, Dad, I'd like ya to meet-" I'd been about to look for him but he had the crowd part like the red sea. And there he was. Gorgeous, oh so gorgeous in every single way as he stalked, slowly down the isle that had been created. His eyes dark and dancing with all the dark thoughts, hair slicked back and tattoos screaming all the stories they had to tell. His jacket flapped around him in a way that made it impossible to look away - what was I saying? J was  what made it impossible to look away. His body moved in a manner that screamed violence. He was violence. A hurricane. "The boyfriiiieeend.." J trailed off for me,  voice an octave lower than I had ever heard him use. 

 

Briefly, I remembered how he had killed Emily to get me back on his case. Emily did nothing wrong to me.

 

Richard was frozen in spot, staring with what seemed to be a mixture of disgust and horror as J crept up like a lion behind me, an arm pushing Jonny out of the way to take his place at my side, hand raising to caress the unbruised side of my face. "Ya see here, Mister Quinzel, my little Harlequin here is the only one of us with parents," He started, pretending to be casual. "And I thought, since, ya know, I'm a decent fella, that I'd come get the grand face of the family to give me some permission to be with his little Princess, ya see, I wanna turn her into a Queen." He explained, hands flittering about in front of him now as he spoke. The man reminded me of a performer. He was one. "But then, I noticed somethin." He started, voice getting deeper, darker as he turned to take my chin in his fingertips. "Harley, baby, wontcha show him what you came home like?" He cooed, voice as sweet as sugar. I turned my head, showing off the bright bruise, and lifted my shirt a bit. The wounds there coming into view too. "Now, now now.. Look at all this damage? I hear it came from you," J was surprisingly calm, it was terrifying how calm he was. "So I'd like to have a calm friendly little chitchat with ya, about how you're suppose to be treatin, my little harlequin when she comes to ya like that." It seemed to set off Richard, as he narrowed his eyes. "Neither of you are gonna set a foot inside my house." He shot back.

 

J sighed, almost like he'd been dealing with this for too long. "My my my, we really got an issue then don't we? Did I ask to come in?" He questioned, the anger he was really feeling starting to shine through. "Cause I don't think that I did. It's not an option, Mister Quinzel. It's a demand." He snapped and gestured for Jonny to bring him inside. With the help of some goons, they overpowered Richard and had brought him in, strapped him down to a chair, and left him there. J took my hand, dainty like he was escorting a Queen already, and lead me over to sit me with my mother, who had a matching bruise on her cheek now too. "Now now now, Ladies. Sit and enjoy the show!" He laughed. Ha. Ha.  ** _Ha._** Oh god. He only laughed when bad things happened, Harleen knew that, Harley knew that. We knew that. I reached out to lightly hold my mothers hand, she gave a brief squeeze, an attempt at an apology. The squeeze I gave in return, was acceptance. 

 

Joker was slowly trailing around Richard, who was throwing obscenities again. See, Richard didn't know who Joker actually was. Knew he killed some people and robbed some banks. Knew basic things that wouldn't really make a man like him, too afraid, of Joker. But that was where his fault was, he didn't fear Joker. Everybody, even me, should fear Joker. J didn't take very kindly to the verbal assault, roughly clamping his finger covered hands down on his shoulders, squeezing it so hard that I could definitely feel it from the other side of the room. "Careful," Joker purred, almost like a kitten, as he leaned down by his ear. "All that chitchat is gonna getcha hurt." He snarled that part, an animal caged and ready to be free. Joker sauntered over in front of him, holding a switchblade out in display. "See, the way my Harley tells me, is that she came to you to say her final goodbyes, and then you, your closeminded self, went on and, uh,  _hurt_ her. Ya see, as her boyfriend, her King, I can't just let people go around  _hurtin_ her like that. Not to mention she's Joker Property now and nobody, I mean,  ** _nobody_** touches my property,  _other than me._ So can ya see where I'm all riled up now?" He was sat on his knee, trailing the knife down but when Richard wasn't giving any responses, J shot the knife across the room with a vicious scream. The knife shattered a picture, stuck into richards face in it. 

 

He seemed to be frustrated, he slipped the jacket off, came over, draped it over me, and then returned to just result to brutal force. His hand had curled into a fist, he hit Richard in the nose, once, twice... Five times, blood was flying, no laughter was present in the air, J was silent aside from snarls and growls. The sound of Richards screams echoed and he tried to fight back, I could see him struggling against his restraints, I saw him tip the chair purposely to get away, but it did nothing to stop J. It was kind of arousing, watching as he kicked viciously, kicked and kicked and kicked at his chest and his stomach, the sound of bones cracking being the only noise loud enough to comprehend. It was hot, watching him work like that. It was.. Oh so romantic.. Ten minutes later and Joker was looking around the room. Found a picture of me and my father and promptly smashed it over his head before he had gripped him by the hair on his head, the dark locks ripping against his scalp as J moved him not so gently, to be positioned on the glass, before he started to stamp roughly down onto Richards head. The sounds were amazing. I couldn't help the little chorus of giggles that I started letting out, J even joined in after a moment or two of reveling in my noise. 

 

By the time he was done, my mother was frozen in shock next to me, and Richard was a puddle of brain matter on the new carpet. J was coated in blood, chest heaving, muscles bulging. He turned to me and almost looked sympathetic. "Misses Quinzel, I'm terribly sorry for your lost and the mess I've made on your floor, but you see, I just had to avenge my Harley." He explained simply as he came over, pulled me to my feet, and put the jacket on me, before holding me up under his arm. 

 

"I.. I understand that you'll take good care of her.." My mother whispered as she stood. "Only the best, for her." He stated, almost proudly as he squeezed me, a bit too roughly, into his side. I brushed it off. My mother looked to me. "And he makes you happy?" I pondered that question. I looked up to J, sweaty and bloody with his normally perfect hair down in his face, breath heavy and lipstick smudged, tattoos on his face.. I smiled. Reaching up I carefully slicked his hair back in place. "Yeah, yeah he does, ma." "Than.. I wish you a happy life," She murmured lightly, and simply.. Left. She left the room. "I'll send the cleaners over!" J called out. "See ya later, Momma Quinn!" He called again, laughter piercing the house as we all headed out. 

 

The rest of that night, he spent it patching up my wounds, taking pretty good care of me. I didn't think he was capable of it. I didn't think being with the Joker would involve being cared for when I was injured.. I didn't even know the half of it. He'd laid me in the bed, climbed in with me, wrapped his strong body around me, and cooed softly into my ear.

 

_"Don't worry, Harls. You wont be havin no more daddy issues."_


End file.
